


The More You Hold

by Somekindofcontraption



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somekindofcontraption/pseuds/Somekindofcontraption
Summary: Hades and Persephone find their marriage tested when a living mortal finds his way into the Underworld.
Relationships: Eurydice wife of Orpheus/Orpheus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 67





	1. Prologue

The summer was a hot one, the hottest in a century, and the wet heat clung stubborn as a grease stain on skin and hair and clothes. Almost impossible to breath in that sickly air, thick as butter and ripe with the vaguely atmospheric smell of ozone and sodden rot. The sort of weather where even nightfall didn’t bring relief.

Bare feet cutting on stone and craggy earth, the woman’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she dodged endless rows of ancient trees and undergrowth, scrambling through the forest for her life. The air heavy and unsatisfying in her lungs. She had left her home and husband to wade into a nearby lake, and wash the sweat from her skin, to clean some of their linens. Now she was being pursued, endlessly, her predator close behind. Laundry basket forgotten on the beach by the lake. 

The woman could hear his heavy footfall, breaking twigs and scattering brush in his wake, shouting something she couldn’t hear over the roar of blood in her ears, the hammering of her own heart. She cried out as her peplos, caked with dirt and mud and soaking up to her knees, caught heavy on an errant branch. 

Pitching forward to the ground, her face hit a root with a sickening crack, pain spreading like wet ink in front of her eyes, and the blood dripping from her face told her that her nose was broken. Bright blood dribbled down her front and mingled with mud. Still she scrambled to her feet again and ran, not daring to look behind her. 

Shouting. That high-pitched simpering voice, cracking like a whip in the quiet of the forest, deadened by the thickness of the tree growth. “Leave your hope behind, _nymph. _You can’t hope to outrun a god!” 

Gasping, wind burning in her lungs, she had come upon a river. It could be waded through, but she couldn’t hope to keep this pace for long, and the water would only slow her, giving him a chance to catch up. The shepherd was much too long of leg, too quick, and too strong for her to overpower if he caught her. The river was ensconced in tall grasses. Desperate, she dove into a thicket of reeds, out of sight.

The heavy footsteps stopped just feet from here, the sound of labored breathing cut short with a frustrated growl. “You can’t hope to hide! Come out, pretty nymph, and perhaps I’ll treat you gently!” 

With bated breath, muscles tense, she prayed fervently to whatever Gods might listen to spare her life, to take her home safely to her lover, her darling husband. Perhaps one had heard her, as the Shepherd kicked the dirt in frustration and departed the riverbank to search for her elsewhere.

It seemed hours that she waited there in the grass, straining to hear any sign that the Shepherd was circling back around for her. When no such sound came, she let out the breath she was holding, gasping for air, and rested her forehead in the cool, wet earth.

That’s when she heard it; a gentle hiss, the slightest rustle of grass, and a chorus of rattling that she felt deep in the pits of her desperate heart. Slowly raising her head, she saw through the reeds a nest of snakes uncoiling over each other, intertwined, scales shimmering and jaws open, poised to strike.

One, two, three, four; before long she lost count of the times arms were struck with curved fangs. The venom so potent she hardly felt a thing as her shade slipped from her body. Her last word; a fervent prayer, a pleading apology, escaping her lips before she slipped gently from the mortal coil.

“_Orpheus.” _


	2. Homecoming

The Underworld was mostly quiet when Hermes brought his most recent acquisition to cross the the Acheron for processing. Swathed in mortal garb and with his charge in tow, he handed the shade’s shiny obol to Charon and held out his hand to help her aboard the boat. 

Eurydice, her paperwork had said. She still had the dazed unfocused look of the recently dead, and when shelooked down at his hand it was as if she’d forgotten what it was for. After a long pause Eurydice finally grasped it, using it to steady herself as she stepped into the boat and settled down on the seat furthest away from where Charon stood. 

Hermes hummed to himself as he plopped down facing her, kicking sand from his winged shoes and signaling the okay to Charon, who pushed them off the embankment with one long paddle. Mortals died young all the time, and they seemed young to Hermes even when they weren’t, but it was still sad to see one _this _young crossing the river.

From her soft, round face Eurydice looked to be about 20 years old, if that. Head haloed with a mess of errant brown curls to match warm, brown eyes. Pear-shaped body, with a heart shaped face. Fierce-looking, but already smile lines had pressed into the corners of her mouth— quick to laugh, or to smile.

The eery glowing remains of snake bites along her arms were the only indicator of her untimely passing. A quick death, for what it was worth. That many bites, it wouldn’t have been too painful, or have lasted too long.

Hermes lamented agreeing to fill in for Thanatos today. Sometimes shades could be so horrifically depressing, and the weight of this one’s sadness pressed heavy on his heart. Thanatos really owed him for the last minute switch, this time. 

While Hermes didn’t often speak to the shades, (they were usually too out of it to even notice he was there), he was startled from his brooding when this one spoke to him.

“I should get home soon,” Eurydice said insistently, brushing unseen dirt from peplos, the memory of having wallowed in mud clinging fresh in her mind. “Orpheus will be worried. I was only going to the river, when…”

When she trailed off, Hermes patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Hey, it’s okay! Don’t think too hard about it. I’m sure— I’m sure you’ll see him soon.” Hermes bounced his leg, grimacing. The last thing he needed was a distressed soul. They went into a sort of shock if they thought about their own deaths. Better to keep to steer them off the subject, but this one just seemed so sad. 

“Hey! Why don’t you tell me about this guy— this Orpheus. Is he your husband? What’s he like?”

Eurydice smiled radiantly, eyes still fixed at some point on the horizon, as if she didn’t see Hermes at all. Maybe she didn’t. For all he knew she was seeing her home, her lover, nothing at all— it was hard to tell with the freshly dead how much they knew about what was going on, especially if they died unexpectedly, or violently.

“We got married in the Spring, with flowers in our hair. Such a beautiful man, my husband, and if you could hear the way he plays his lyre, the sweet lilt of his voice, you would weep for it,” Eurydice said breathlessly, shoulders shuddering as if licked by cold. “You wouldn’t know from the way he is with a lyre in hand that he is so shy, so quiet. When I asked him to marry me, he very nearly fainted. His cheeks, pinky-red and shining like sweet plums. Weeping when he accepted.”

Eurydice smiled, looking up at him through the stray curls swept across her forehead, tears in her eyes. Hermes smiled too, reaching for her hand and taking it in his own. “Well, maybe I’ll meet him sometime, and he can play for me.” 

It was definitely one of the most unusual days he’d had on delivery duty. But maybe it was better that it was him that retrieved this shade and not Thanatos, who had all the empathy of an old shoe and even less tact than Hermes. 

Looking over at the Beach Hermes was delighted to see that a pink figure, clothed in white, was waving at him from the shoreline. The Queen of the Underworld had returned home at last, and with perfect timing— what better way to ease Eurydice’s tortured soul than with counsel from the sweetest person Hermes knew.

With his free hand Hermes waved back excitedly; Persephone would know how to help.

—————

At the tail-end of the Summer the influx of new shades to the Underworld often slowed to a trickle. As the warm months waned, the mortals toiled their days away tending their Fall harvests, preparing to fill their larders and cellars with food for the Winter. 

This particular day in the mortal realm was incredibly steamy. A boon, not uncommon when Persephone first returned to the Underworld for the season; one last heated Summer day before the wind began to bite and the leaves began to turn. Hot winds to lick at her heels, to usher her home.

While the mortals lounged the day away up above in the sticky heat, Persephone walked the Beach, still in her mortal garb for the comfort of the shades around her, doing her very first check-in on her way to see Hades for the first time in six long months. 

Six months away from the Underworld, and six months in it. Six months with her husband, and six months with her mother. A hard bargain, no easier now than it was when it was new five years ago, but worth it to spend the rest of eternity by Hades’ side. 

The Beach was very nearly empty, with only a few shades milling around. Even by the Acheron there were not many souls waiting for lack of boat fare, being that Persephone had been expensing their fares out of her salary since she became Queen. 

If Persephone had conveniently forgotten to tell Hades about it, that was her own business. 

As she moved among the shades, Persephone stopped occasionally to grasp hands and listen to the ails of the dead, sending them along with her well wishes and kind blessings. They were much more peaceful this way when they were processed for their destination, and she felt more in touch with the mortals when she put in the time to personally visit the souls in their care.

It was tempting to make a bee-line for her lover, but she took her duties as Queen seriously, and Hades would still be up to his neck in work at this time of day regardless. Better to take her time, so he could give her his full attention.

Just as well that she had decided to tarry, she thought, as over the still waters of the Acheron she saw Charon approaching in his boat. Hermes was on board, holding the hand of a troubled looking shade. The approaching party hadn’t seen her yet, and she waved her arms to catch their attention.

Hermes looked up, and that big dopey grin that she loved so much stretched across his red face. She saw him frequently up in the mortal realm, as he was the only one she trusted to carry letters back and forth to Hades, but she never got to hang out with him unless she was in the Underworld. It was hard to not smile when Hermes came around. 

As the boat drew steadily closer, Persephone eyed the young shade holding hands with her friend. Strong arms, and striking features, but so young. She could feel it, beneath the newness of the shade, how short her life had been, and how abruptly it had ended. Soaked in terror. Horrible, that sickly feeling radiating off of the shade as the boat drew closer, finally making landfall in front of her. 

Charon smiled warmly at Persephone, giving a half-serious bow and digging his paddle into the sand. A man of few words, the boatman, but he seemed fond enough of Persephone. Worlds away from Hermes’ exuberance, though; he bounded from the boat and wrapped Persephone in his arms, twirling her around a time or two before setting her back on her feet.

“Hey Perse! I missed you— welcome home!”

Persephone giggled, and shook her head. “You just saw me last week!”

Hermes waved her off. “Yeah, but we haven’t gotten to actually hang out in like _forever! _Delivering letters doesn’t count. Demeter keeps you on a tight leash up there, I’m just looking forward to our lunches again.”

Persephone peered past him at the shade, who was looking at her strangely, still sitting on the boat. “What’s her story?” Persephone whispered. 

“Eurydice. Just married this last spring. Killed by snakes— her paperwork says she was being chased,” Hermes whispered back, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“That’s awful. Does it say who was chasing her?” 

“It doesn’t, and I didn’t want to ask obviously. The Fates would have more info, but for now… could you take to her, Perse? She’s just so _sad._” Hermes gave her his best puppy dog pout, which earned him a playful slap on the arm. 

“Don’t try to charm me, Hermes. Anyway, like you have to ask! I could feel her coming from all the way across the river. I’ll speak with her.” Persephone rocked up on her tiptoes to kiss Hermes’ cheek, before making her way over to Eurydice. 

The sorrow was cloying, a thick cloud hanging around the shade, smoldering from the core of her and radiating outwards. The air even tasted of it, the stink of an unjust death. Covering the shade's arms, the evidence of the snake bites that had killed her. When Eurydice looked up at her it was with unfocused eyes.

“Hello, Eurydice,” Persephone said, holding out a hand to help the shade from the boat. Eurydice stared at her, and then slowly, carefully, took her hand and stepped onto the Beach. “What troubles you? I’m here to help.”

“Here to… help?” 

“Here to help,” Persephone said again, warmly, running a comforting hand over Eurydice’s arm. “What troubles you?”

“My husband. My Orpheus. I need to get back to him,” Eurydice said, a gentle plea. “Can you help me find him?”

“Not right now, but you will find him when you’re meant to, Eurydice. That much I can promise you.” 

“Where— where am I?”

“You’re on your way to somewhere else,” Persephone said gently. “Somewhere safe. I’ll take you, if you’d like.”

“Who are you?” Eurydice said, a strange look in her eyes. “Why am I here?”

“Kore. I’m Kore. I’m a friend.”

Eurydice’s brows furrowed, eyes narrowing, and then horror became to dawn on her heart-shaped face. “No. Don’t— don’t lie to me. I know you, I know your face, from our village temple. You’re the Goddess of Spring — the Bringer of Death.” 

Persephone’s heart jumped up into her throat, thrumming heavily. She waited a few beats, and nodded slowly, sorrowfully. She was trying to save the woman some distress, but there was little point in lying now. 

Eurydice continued, “Dread Queen Persephone please, I beg of you, you cannot take me from him. Orpheus forgets to eat, he’s unskilled at procuring food, at maintaining shelter. He needs me.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not up to me,” Persephone said, squeezing her hand apologetically. “Your thread’s been cut, your time as Eurydice is done. But the good news is you’re bound for Elysium. You may be reborn, and perhaps some day you will meet him above, or below in the afterlife. I’m just here to ease the pain, but I can’t change your fate.”

“You must understand, his grief will surely kill him,” Eurydice said in a low voice, meeting her gaze with fearful eyes. “I remember. I remember everything. I remember the Shepard, chasing me through the woods. I remember a mass of undulating vipers, lying in wait.”

“Eurydice, I am so, so, sorry, but—”

“His name was Aristaeus, and he has done me grievous harm. That Shepard stole my life from me, but I will not sit idly by and let him steal the chance for a happy life from Orpheus. I demand from Aristeaus reparation; I will not leave my husband.”

“It’s not up to m—“

“_I will not leave my husband.”_

Eurydice stared her down with surprising clarity; more corporeal, more human than any average shade. Nothing could have prepared Persephone for what happened next; Eurydice, with fierce resolve, wrenched her hand from Persephone’s and took off at a sprint down the Beach, kicking up small torrents of sand in her wake.


End file.
